Damon Salvatore didn't believe himself to be an idiot, though he often questioned his sanity. He wondered when exactly he'd committed such a heinous crime for his karmic retribution to be so disastrous. He shook his head, as the countless crimes and atrocities he had committed in his lifetime pushed into his metaphorical line of sight. So he had ripped off a head or two, who hadn't? Just because he had been an active participant in the exsanguination of various individuals during his lifetime did not mean he should be punished so severely. And yet, he was a prisoner of his own mind and emotions.

It was just after 3:00 am, the witching hour, Damon thought humorlessly as he checked his watch. The drive back to Virginia from Colorado had been miserable. He wanted to put some distance between him and Elena immediately, they were almost home. Jeremy was pumping gas, staring into the distance, hands in his pockets as Damon made his way into the convenience store. Damon rubbed his thumb against his ring, slowly twisting it around his finger as he walked towards the coffee bar.

The convenience store was empty except for the cashier who was busy with a paperback. He gave Damon a nod of acknowledgement without looking up from his book. There was a flickering fluorescent light from the cold drinks and Damon cleared his throat as he reached for a coffee cup, feeling the phantom echo of Elena's heartbeat on his skin as he filled the cup. She had been sneaking glances in his direction every few minutes since their fight in Kansas. Each time Elena looked at him, he could hear the spike of her heartbeat. The audacity for her to feel hurt when she was the one who had done this to them.

Damon poured a second cup of coffee, this one cinnamon flavored for Elena. He also wanted a cinnamon flavored coffee but he wouldn't get one. When someone breaks your heart,again, you don't get the same coffee they like , Damon repeated to himself. Maybe he'd treat himself to one of those sticky danish pastries that only tasted good when they came from a gas station. He would buy one and he wouldn't share half with Elena. Damon covered the cups with lids, added a sleeve to each because God forbid Elena burned her precious hands. He paid for the gas, coffee, a disgusting green-looking energy drink because Jeremy was a little shit too cool for a Colombian roast, and a danish pastry in a crinkly wrapper.

He knocked on the passenger side window and Elena lowered the window. Damon handed her the coffee, taking care to avoid touching her, much less meeting her glance.
"Damon," she said quietly.
He looked at her. Jesus, fucking Christ. He couldn't do this anymore.
"Nope," Damon clipped as he walked around the car to Jeremy's side. He handed Jeremy an energy drink and money for the gas because he was still a kid and shouldn't be paying for gas. Jeremy opened his mouth to protest but Damon's sharp frown silenced him into accepting the bills.

Damon sat back behind the wheel and took the coffee Elena was holding out to him. He ran a hand down his face. He was so tired. He checked his phone for any delays on the road, they were almost home. He handed his phone to Jeremy in the backseat.

"Play something loud. I'm not in the mood for Taylor Swift", Damon said, biting into the pastry and putting the car into motion. Jeremy laughed and Elena relaxed momentarily. Damon tapped the steering wheel absentmindedly as he chewed.

He could leave tonight, after dropping them off with pseudo-stepfather Ric. He could leave and spend a hundred years in another state, country, maybe even another continent. Elena Gilbert has been in his life for two years. He'd only known her for two years of his almost two hundred years. Ninety-eight years should be enough to forget her. Enough to forget the way she laughed when he sneezed, the way she took her coffee, and the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Yes, he could leave tonight. He could leave without so much as a letter, let her wonder where he had gone and if he would ever come back. Let it consume her every thought, plague her dreams, and cripple her with what-ifs.

But if he left tonight without a word…he would forever wonder if she saw the northern lights in Norway like they talked about one night after too much cabernet. He would wonder where she would complete her medical residency. He gripped the steering wheel as he realized that he would never see what wedding dress she picked for her wedding, Ric walking her down the aisle. He would wonder what song she chose for the first dance and if it was maybe one he liked now. Above all, Damon knew he would mostly wonder if she missed him at all. He was fucked.

Because even if he left tonight, no amount of years could ever make him forget the way she had felt under his hands or tasted on his lips. No amount of decades could ever take away the euphoria that he experienced the moment Elena crashed into his body, ready to surrender herself to him. Doomed to live in a purgatory of his own making. Completely and utterly fucked.

The sun was rising as they pulled up to the Gilbert house. Damon helped Elena and Jeremy with their bags as the front door opened.

Ric greeted them on the porch with blood-shot eyes, he'd probably stayed awake all night waiting for them to come home.

"I'm gonna head home," Damon said to Ric, handing him the keys to the car.

"Thanks for doing this," Ric said, gesturing at Jeremy as he walked into the house.

"You know I love a good road trip. Your car needs an oil change and someone may have spilled coffee in the front seat. Have you heard from Stefan yet?"

"He crashed here. Said he wanted to see Elena."

Of course he had. Saint Stefan. Protector of the land.

"Great. Well. Two Gilberts have been delivered with minor bumps and bruises. The Salvatore Delivery Service is closed down for the rest of the year. Ric, I'll see you around. Gilberts, stay out of trouble and call Stefan if you need anything," Damon said, taking his bag from Elena.

He fished his sunglasses and keys to his car from the top zipper.

He'd left his car parked down the street. It felt like years had passed.

Damon half expected Elena to run beside him, to beg him to stay and talk to her, to look at her, please .

But when he reached his car, he turned back to see that Stefan already had Elena wrapped in his arms. Elena's eyes found Damon's in the same way that it had happened at the abandoned house months ago.

The eyes that had haunted Damon for months the way phantom battle sounds had been following him in the darkness for decades.

It was like a bad dream he kept reliving: Elena running down the stairs to him, he knew she had been running to him, but instead Stefan had been the one to wrap her into his arms.

Into safety.

Stefan was safety and Damon was reckless and unpredictable.

Elena had looked at him then the way she was looking at him now.

Thank you.
You're welcome.

She looked away and Damon thought about Elena's eyes as he drove away.